


Old Dog, New Bun

by donutsweeper



Category: Captain America (2011), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-27
Updated: 2012-05-27
Packaged: 2017-11-06 03:29:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/414220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donutsweeper/pseuds/donutsweeper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not Tony's place to keep an eye on Captain America.  Really, it isn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Dog, New Bun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hllangel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hllangel/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Старый хот-дог, новая обертка](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8307160) by [faikit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/faikit/pseuds/faikit)



Overall, Steve Rogers seemed to have adjusted fairly well to the twenty first century. He was fine. Which made perfect sense because for all intents and purposes, America was America and Brooklyn was Brooklyn, so what was there to _not_ be fine about?

Well, if you discount that whole "on ice for seventy years" thing or the fact that everyone he ever knew was dead....

Yeah, okay, maybe Steve Rogers had a reason or two to be a little less than his chipper self upon occasion.

Not that it bothered Tony at all. If Captain Perfect wanted to stand on the roof and stare at the sky with his hands fisted so tightly that his knuckles were white, that was all on him. And if he spent the rest his spare time destroying punching bag after punching bag, how did that really matter in the greater scheme of things?

Except...

Except there was the way his shoulders bent, ever so slightly, like there was a weight on them that was so heavy he could barely breathe through it. 

Except there was this momentary look of bewilderment that would flash across his face before he could hide it whenever a cultural reference came up that he had never been exposed to.

Except for how, while Rogers was _friendly_ with everyone (well, everyone who wasn't trying to kill him, like Loki, or provoke him for his own personal asinine purposes, like Tony did occasionally), he wasn't exactly _friends_ with anyone. It was a defensive technique Tony recognized well, having used him himself his whole life, even if he went about the methodology of implementing it differently.

So when the spies that Tony would never admit to hiring and the programs that he in no way ever wrote began spitting out data about requisitions for gym equipment by the gross and notes about missed meals and declined invitations, Tony decided to act.

Kidnapping Captain America was ridiculously easy. So much so that Tony was surprised Rogers had survived this century as long as he had so far. 

"For your information, when a strange car pulls alongside you and the door opens ominously, the proper response is _not_ to just hop on in without a second thought. What if I was some evildoer wanting to kidnap you for nefarious purposes?"

Rogers smiled in response- not his happy, eye-crinkled smile, but his 'you're my co-worker so I have to put up with you and appear not too upset about doing so' one. "It was one of your cars, Stark, which didn't guarantee the lack of 'nefarious purposes' but did make it less likely."

Tony couldn't help but offered a lewd grin in response. "I'm not sure if I should take that as a compliment or an insult. I think I'll take it as a sign that you're beginning to know me too well."

"What do you want from me, Stark?"

"Actually, you have it the wrong way around. I don't want anything from you. In fact, I'm going to _give_ you something.

"You're going to give something to me?" Rogers asked, his tone belying his disbelief. "Why?"

Not quite sure himself, and not having an answer at the ready for that, Tony merely replied, "You'll see."

It didn't take long to get to their destination, despite typical city traffic. 

"Are we?" Rogers cleared his throat. "Is this Coney Island?"

"Yep." Tony smirked, feeling quite pleased with himself. It'd changed in the seventy odd years since Rogers would have seen it last, but he'd done his research, and with sure footing led the way to their destination.

"Nathan's is still here?" There were so many inflections and layers to the question, Tony stopped to look at Rogers.

"Not everything's changed, Captain; so quit staring and close your mouth, you're going to attract attention if you continue to stand there like some slack-eyed yokel. I am going to buy you a Nathan's original hot dog, and get it with just mustard, which I'm told is the traditional, if albeit, boring way to eat it. Then we're going to take a walk on the boardwalk and you're going to close your eyes and smell the salt air and listen to the waves and eat your damned hot dog and realize that even though your home's different, there's still some of it that's the way you left it. Got it?"

Rogers stared at Tony for a moment and then smiled. Not his 'put up with the crazy co-worker' smile, not his 'slight eye-crinkle show of enjoyment' smile, but a huge, beaming smile that lit up his whole face. "Got it."


End file.
